linealأمة

A conquered people is marginalized. As it blends with the conquerors, peoples from further away see the ruling people and subjected people as one. The subsumed and dwindling subjugated become a quirk -a subculture- within the wider victorious culture. There's habit-drift: defining traits of the subjects join the practices of the masters and vice versa. Traditions are shared and connect people in an amalgam culture.
Take the name of any nation. Where did its' people come from? One assemblage of tribes conquered others. Both blend together until they forget the names of their clans. Borders are islands where enemy garrisons sit across from one another in an ocean of peoples.
Sometimes the newborn culture takes after its' father, the conqueror, and bears his name. Like Tsaritsyn became Stalingrad became Volgograd. Sometimes the amalgamation takes after its' mother, the subjected people/s, like England stayed English after the Norman Conquest.
A conquering people are carriers. They harbor fragments of other peoples' personalities in their psyche. Over time some fragments spread, transforming the host from the inside out. Like Romans became Greek then Christian.
People who know themselves to be a separate culture but don't know their ancestors ways have a tabula rasa to be iconates. Like America's freedmen buying clothes it'd take years to grow into.

Kith

At the end of a tunnel of light sits a royally fat thin-lidded man.
He's attended by a running train of toiling cat-man servants.
Hidden in the courtroom shadows sit slinky whispering advisers.
By his right side stands a wheel immense beyond visualization.
Vis a his authority he spins yon immeasurable decider.
Marked on its' edges are the lowest living forms.
Circle within circle towards the middle greater bodies are displayed.
From worms to kitten litters and he seated himself dead center the depictions exquisitely exceed the kinds of creatures I'd seen.
Between me and him two tall men in flowing embroidered robes.
Thick gems stretched low their ear lobes.
The one on the right read my best doings.
The sinister reader bared my worst shames.
Oral report done my judgment begun.
Nodding, deciding, he gestured at the towering shining wheel.
Its' movements were so complex if I'd my lifetime again to study it I couldn't describe its' organization.
I was shown my chosen incarnation.
A gaunt figure, skin meatless and tanned over a brittle ribcage, long dirty hair, stomach shallow , egg-shaped eyes bulging beneath their lids (outside sockets), naked with long fingers.
When my study of its' body was complete I was looking at the hairs on my own arm.
Humans passed through me but did no harm.
On a trash heap steaming poo seeped from a rain-half-washed diaper.
I licked my fangs and walked over.
Shit smells bad as ever and tastes worse than I'd imagined but it's all I can eat.

Don't Leave Me

At the dispersal of a party, be it family gathering at holiday, friends for a drink, a dance club's closing, or any occasion there's a sensation of emptying in the revelers. Neural rows of connections between us snap off. Like series of usb ports unplugged.
It's hardwired in us to crave company, to love society. Some are satisfied with the gathering and look forward to the next. A remainder of the last party stays together to continue elsewhere. Singles split off to return to solitude. Some stay at the place of meeting to clean up or 'cause they live there. Maybe to linger and admire the setting. Some work to counter the flow of the mob, convince people to stay, and sometimes have charisma or new events enough to hold onto most of the crowd. On the greatest of scales: this last role in the party is fulfilled by politicians, bankers, and bureaucrats.
In the context of mingling, lawmakers are party-planners. Lawyers referees for our games. Cops and armies bouncers who decide who gets in without sneaking and who stays without wanting. Executors are hosts who won't give dinner to guests who repeatedly refuse to play. Then oppression is the neurosis of someone who fears the band he has assembled hates him and takes every measure to keep as many people as close as possible. Of course "The Man" in his manor is not inviting the rabble into his house but he's touching us through his currency, military, and infrastructure. He doesn't want to let go. The shame is these types seem to eventually become the depraved bully. The madman who hits a woman if she tries to run away and then will say how much he cares while stroking her face. Like that chick from the Stephen King movie who breaks a guy's legs...